


Gods can bake, too!

by thehumanoidprime



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Baker AU, Bruce is an author, Loki is sassy, M/M, Slow Burn, thor baking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 11:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehumanoidprime/pseuds/thehumanoidprime
Summary: Bruce lives a quiet life, writing novels under a pseudonym and spending his days in lesser-known alleys whilst working at the local university with his friend Tony Stark. It's quiet, and it's his, and he tells himself he's content this way. That is, until a handsome new stranger opens a bakery right across from the only tea-room that makes the blend that Bruce lives on. Oh, and until he makes an ass out of himself in front of the new guy.





	Gods can bake, too!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is probably going to be long. Like, the longest thing I have ever written long. And the updates are probably gonna be random but I'm going to try and write at the very least once a month.
> 
> In this au, superheroes don't exist and everyone is just a regular human and no-one is dead!  
> (totally not in denial of infinity war)

The first that Bruce Banner knew of the new bakery down the road he frequented for its quiet business and good teashop was when he tripped over and a tall, blonde man offered him his hand.

“Hello there! Are you alright? I saw you fall and I was worried that you were hurt!” The stranger asks.

Bruce is vaguely aware that the blonde man is speaking to him, but he is more distracted by the fact that he is both exceedingly handsome and _very_ buff. Like, exceeding normal human levels of buff. However, this distraction is short-lived, because the man is becoming even more concerned at Bruce’s unresponsive and vacant behaviour.

“Ah, sorry! Thanks.” He manages to get out, before reaching his hand out to the one that the man is offering.

The man pulls Bruce off of the ground as if he weighed like nothing, chuckling heartily even though his eyes still hold concern which seems to be aimed at Bruce.

“Thanks.” Bruce says, even though he said it before and maybe it was not the best choice he ever made.

“Did you hit your head? You’ve said that twice now.” Says the man, reaching out to touch Bruce’s head to presumably check for the injury he doesn’t have.

“Ah- no! I’m alright! Sorry, I’m not good with ah-talking? To people?”  Bruce cries, batting away his hand gently.

It’s not quite a question the Bruce manages to direct at the stranger, but it seems to work and he withdraws his hand, which Bruce can’t decide whether he is happy about or not.

“I’m sorry if I startled you.” The man explains, seeming to lose some of his confidence. “I’m not really accustomed to the social cues in this country.”

‘Ah’, Bruce thinks. That explains the accent. It’s British with a hint of something else, something that has Bruce imagining snowy mornings and lumberjack fantasies. It is most likely, Bruce reminds himself, that this is because he is from somewhere northern. That might be kind of insensitive. Bruce decides it doesn’t matter. He’s not from here, and that is interesting, because everyone Bruce knows is from here bar a few.

“I think that the fall did the job well before you!” Bruce jokes, or at least tries to.

The man laughs, this time truly. It rocks through his body like he has never heard anything as hilarious, and no-one has ever captivated him as much as Bruce has in that one single moment. The laugh is over far too soon, and the man stands awkwardly, a cheesy grin still stuck on his face as he tries to recover his composure.

“My name is Thor. It is very nice to meet you, Mr-?” begins the now not-stranger.

“Banner. Bruce Banner.” Says Bruce, as if he were at work, and not meeting an attractive stranger in the street.

Now that he thinks about it, did the man say his name was Thor? As in?

“Wait, your name is Thor? As in the god?” Bruce asks, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

Thor looks sheepish and rubs the back of his neck, an adorable trait that enthrals Bruce even more.

“Ahah, yes. If you think that’s bad, my brother is called Loki.” He grins.

Bruce grins back, steadfastly refusing the impulse he has to proclaim that Thor’s name undoubtedly suits him because holy shit does he have the body of a god, and the smile of one.

“Why?” Bruce asks, thinking aloud.

“My family had a rather niche appreciation for norse mythology.” Thor explains, “My sister is called Hela too!”

He seems happy about this, so Bruce continues to smile, despite finding it a little cruel to name your children after norse gods. It’s kind of pretentious, but then again, Thor is definitely a ‘Thor’. The name describes him in a way Bruce never could, and he loses himself in his thoughts again.

“Well, I’m sorry Banner, but I’m afraid that I have to get back to work now- I kind of left my store unattended when I came over to help.” Thor apologises, scratching the back of his neck again as he realises his mistake. However, there is an underlying worry in his eyes that Bruce can’t quite ignore.

“Oh, where do you work?” He asks, noticing the burgundy apron that Thor is wearing for the first time, and gives him a bemused look.

“I bake!” Thor proclaims, proudly. “Sort of!” He adds, after a thought, equally enthusiastically.

He points over across the street, where a small building that used to be a sad little café used to be, and Bruce sees that there is a new sign and a fresh coat of paint. The once crumbling paint has been redone in a striking maroon matching Thor’s apron, with silver accents. The sign now reads “BAKERY” in a fancy, golden hand, obviously painted with care.

“My brother helped me do it up.” Thor tells Banner, as they both walk towards it. “He even did the golden lettering like a real bakery! He’s so kind to me!”

Banner nods, and now they are in front of the store. Thor picks up a stack of chairs that lay abandoned in the street and quickly opens them up, placing them next to the tables. Bruce realises that this is most likely why Thor helped him up- because he was outside setting up tables. The large man finishes setting up, gives his adorable setup a once-over, and waves Bruce over to the door.

Bruce follows Thor in, and is greeting by a smell that is not...pleasant.

Thor sniffs the air, and squawks like a parrot before rushing to the back of the shop in a flurry of panic. Bruce pokes his head over the little counter, and apon seeing smoke he is about to follow after Thor when the man himself appears in the doorway, brandishing a charred pink oven mitt.

“How?” Bruce begins, but Thor cuts him off.

“It appears that I left the oven door open slightly, and then the oven-glove fell into the cooling oven but it was still pretty hot and I guess it started to heat up and then caught on a tiny bit of fire whilst I was gone?”

Bruce tried very hard not to laugh, but couldn’t help a little snort. Thor raised his eyebrows at this before beaming and breaking out into a chortle himself. Suddenly, as if he was a golden retriever with eyes on a ball, Thor turned to Bruce.

“Would you like to try one of my confections?” He asked, excitedly.

Bruce got the impression that Thor did not get many customers, based on this, but could not work out why. This man was an angel, how could people not be swarming this bakery? He walked over to the glass counter and eyed the pastries. They all looked beautiful, and Bruce was delighted to see that Thor had nicknamed some well-known ones. A lot of them, however,  were  unfamiliar to Bruce.

“I wasn’t sure whether people here in America would like them.” Thor rambled, as Bruce eyed the pastries and cakes with a thoughtful gaze.

“A lot of them are from England, where I lived before this, and some of them are from my family’s old recipes!” He continued, watching Bruce intently.

Bruce pointed at the glass, and tilted his head to face up to Thor, who had moved round to the other side of the glass case.

“Can I have one of these?” Bruce asks, and Thor looks at the one that he has chosen.

It’s labelled simply as “sweet rabbit”, but to be honest Bruce thinks it looks more like a racoon. He doesn’t want to offend Thor, and it is covered in cinnamon, which Bruce likes. He’s not going to complain. Thor picks it up with rubber tongs and places it in a paper bag. He then grabs the ends of it and spins it round artfully, and hands it to Bruce.

“How much do I owe you?” Bruce asks, reaching for his wallet.

“No-It’s a gift! To make you feel better! You did just fall over after all!” Thor smiles.

“I insist!” Bruce replies, adamant.

He is going to pay this handsome man for his overly cutesy pastry if he dies trying.

“No, no – I insist!” Thor returns.

“How much?” Bruce continues.

“Ah- we’ll be at this for hours! Fine! You can pay, but I’m giving you a discount!” Thor snaps, placing his hands onto the top of the counter like an attorney.

“Deal!” Bruce cheers, snatching at the opportunity.

“I guess it’ll be $2.” Thor tells him, and clicks open the register.

Bruce hands him the money, and can’t help the way his heart flutters when Thor’s hand brushes against his as they exchange the notes. Bruce realises that he might be a bigger problem than expected, because if this short encounter is enough to make Bruce this jittery around him then what will any further interactions do??

Regardless, Bruce takes the pastry racoon rabbit and waves to Thor as he crosses the street to the tea-room that sells the mix of calming green tea that he needs to get through stressful days. He takes a bite of the ‘sweet rabbit’ and stumbles on the brick paving-stones.

Oh. This is why Thor hasn’t got any customers.

The pastry is over-loaded with cinnamon and has been over-cooked to a brittle and dry texture. Despite the appearance, it’s absolutely terrible. Bruce can’t imagine anyone has told Thor this, but just in case someone has, he turns around and gives a great big smile and a thumbs-up towards the man in the bakery.

Thor breaks out into a dazzling smile and does a small fist-pump, before returning to the back of the shop. Bruce swallows the pastry with reluctance and places the remains back into the paper bag. He walks into the tea-room and the shop-keeper looks up and smiles at him.

“Oh, hey Bruce! How’s your next book going?” She calls, before her eyes lock onto his paper bag.

“Oh no! Did he get you too?” She asks, full of sympathy.

“Get me?” Bruce replies, confusion spreading across his face.

“The muscle-guy in the bakery! Did you try it yet?” She asks, glancing over at Thor’s bakery across the street.

“N-no?” Bruce lies, unsure of the shop-keeper’s intentions.

“Don’t. He can’t bake for his life.” She tells him, placing her hand on her forehead. “It’s so sad, I was guilt-tripped into eating  3 raisin-filled cake rolls on Tuesday. No-one has the heart to tell him how bad his pastries are.”

Bruce thinks of Thor’s beaming smile and the enthusiasm he clearly has for his bakery. He can’t imagine telling Thor how bad they are either.

“At this rate, he’ll go out of business within the month.” The shopkeeper says, sighing gently. “It’s a damn shame, I can imagine that he’s gone through a lot to get here.”

Bruce hums absent-mindedly in agreement, and looks out at the golden lettering on the red paint. Bruce thinks of Thor in his apron, and his long blonde hair with the cute little plaits and his blue eyes and decides that Thor is not going to go out of business. Not on Bruce Banner’s watch.

He pulls out his phone and opens up the group chat. “The Avengers” has been the name of their group ever since their own university years.

 **Green Giant :** I need your help guys

 **Green Giant :** meet me at headquarters tonight and ill explain its a matter of life and death

Bruce knows that no-one can resist the urge of ‘headquarters’, or as it really is, Tony’s apartment. Due to the large amounts of funding from the university’s research programmes, it’s large and grand, and by far the biggest of all of the group member’s homes. Therefore, it had been dubbed ‘headquarters’ by Clint on the first time they had crashed at his place. Bruce preferred to think of it as Monica’s apartment from ‘friends’, in that everyone just sort of showed up anyway. Bruce himself only lived across the hall, in another, smaller flat that he had bought with the money he had earned from his books. It was smaller than Tony’s, but that meant that the other’s crashed it less than his, so Bruce was absolutely fine with that.

He turned and headed back to his apartment, paper bag and paper cup of tea in hand. He had a god to save.


End file.
